LXXXIII

Alexander

I stood in the midst of the carnage around me.

My face taking in the blood-soaked field surrounding me impassively. Bodies littered the ground densely. Heads decapitated; limbs ripped from the sockets.

Those unfortunate ones that had now been delivered a deathly blow, lay limp on the ground, crying out in pain. Unable to stand up and leave the battle ground under their own steam, they would eventually succumb to a bittersweet end. Their open wounds would eventually become infected, and they would die miserable and in pain as their blood turned to poison in their veins. That is, if hunger did not get there first.

Try as I might, I could not feel anything for the miserable souls lying on the ground.

This war had raged for two years.

Two years of battle and blood.

When one battle was fought, the next would begin. All amassing here, at Castle Black.

The blood-soaked ground would never be the same again.

I watched as great pyres were built to dispose of the bodies. Pile, upon pil